


Of Skaia and Sunlight

by curiousDeviator



Series: HouseStuck [1]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Sburb/Sgrub Sessions, Gen, Medievalstuck
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-16
Updated: 2017-09-18
Packaged: 2018-09-24 19:59:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 18,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9783611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/curiousDeviator/pseuds/curiousDeviator
Summary: John Egbert is a young man living in the nomadic House Breath. Under the orders of the House leader, he must travel across the land in search of an ally willing to stand with Breath in the mounting war. As he journeys, he discovers that the world is not so innocent as he once believed it to be.No set schedule.





	1. Shadows on the Breeze

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah ok so I fixed the problem. I accidentally used the notes for the entire work like I would for a single chapter. All fixed now, so there should be specific notes at the end of each chapter

John Egbert was not having a good day. He traced a finger along the rim of his coffee mug, and sighed, blowing his short bangs up onto his forehead. He knew that his father was right, and that politics were almost certainly a one way road to death, but he had to say something. 

The alliance with House Life was simply preposterous. Doing so would make several powerful enemies, House Doom included. No one really knew what happened to people who angered House Doom. They just ended up dead, a rotting corpse that looked to be decaying for weeks, though the person had just been seen the previous evening alive and well, or a bloated cadaver ravaged by an unidentifiable poison.

Breath’s other option wasn’t much of an improvement. Refusing this alliance would practically be declaring war on House Life. To survive they would certainly have to make an alliance with House Doom, which was sketchy at best, deadly at worst. While they were still sorting out their terms with Doom, Life would be launching an all out assault.While not known for its subtlety, Life was not a force to be trifled with, especially its Empress.

In short, House Breath was stuck between a rock and a hard place. There was no easy solution and the Grandmother knew it. She and several of her most trusted advisors had been in her huge traveling wagon for days now, only emerging to squirrel away more food into the building. John wasn’t quite sure what all the secrecy was about, information had always been relatively free flowing in his House. It was unnerving. He had been called to the caravan today, albeit in secrecy, and had been pacing for the past hour.

John donned the customary blue hood of his house. It was long, the tail nearly reached his waist when down from his head, a deep cobalt. He strapped a knife onto his upper arm, covering it with the sleeves of his shirt as he adjusted his glasses to sit straight on his nose. He huffed a sigh, mussing his dark hair and stepped out of the tent. 

He crossed the camp without much consequence, stopping only when it was unavoidable, and even then he was bouncing on his toes. Herds of Tinkerbulls fluttered across the area, their musky scent filling the air. John pressed his ear against the heavy leather flap that served as a doorway to the traveling wagon. Inside he could hear rapid fire speech, and voices raised. 

“You have to understand, we mustn't-”

John stepped into the caravan, a wave of musky air washing over him. Arguments petered out into silence. His father, halfway through his sentence with his fists clenched on the table, quickly withdrew. He shot one last glare at the offending adviser and smoothed his lapel, beginning to stride over to meet his son.

“Ah, John.” He placed his large hands on both of John’s shoulders and kissed the top of his head. John’s father then spun him around to face the elaborate mahogany table, as well as the sets of eyes that surrounded it.

“This is my son, John.” There was a visible relaxation around the room. “The Grandmother called him, but I was not  _ aware.”  _ Stress on the word aware. He spat it out like a piece of rotten tobacco, then continuing slowly. “That the rest of the advisors had not been notified of his imminent arrival.” 

John’s palms began sweating and he wiped them on his pants, hoping none of the councilmembers noticed. One, of leonine countenance, did, and smiled with a grace that promised certain death if he made a misstep.

Heads bowed under his glare, all except for the Grandmother, who simply smiled at him, the corners of her eyes crinkling. “Yes yes, child. Come, sit.” She made a vague gesture towards one of the empty seats.

John traversed the room, aware of the small puff of dust that went up at every footstep. He sat down and shifted slightly in his seat. The Grandmother appeared to have turned her attention back to the rest of the room, as chatter had begun anew, along with all of the previous arguments.

“This is suicide! We can’t refuse this alliance, Breath is as good as dead if we do!”

“If we take it we’re toast! At least Doom won’t be on our asses if we refuse.”

“Life isn’t much of an improvement. You want them to sic their military and imperial drones on you?”

The Grandmother stood up after this discourse had continued for some time, brushing imaginary fuzz off her elaborate robe. She seemed to exude a heavy air, drawing the eyes of the room towards her. “Silence, Gentlemen,” she smoothed her graying hair, teasing the curls in it. “There is always a choice.”

“Of course, have the choice between Doom and Life but that’s not much in the way of free will-”

“We will not be creating any new alliances, not today. Breath has always been free, its members allowed to choose their own path. We must not sacrifice our Principle in the hopes of avoiding defeat.” The Grandmother swept her sky blue sleeves from her hands in a smooth gesture, a heirloom ring flashing silver in the dim light. It was definitive, and her blue eyes were as cold as ice as she swept them across the room. One council member finally spoke up.

“Defeat? You must mean complete annihilation. Surely the rest of the House will understand?” A councilman with deep midnight blue robes spoke up, voice fading as the steely gaze of the Grandmother moved to him.

“They cannot hope to kill all of us, if we scatter quickly.” Quiet. All looked to John’s father who had stood up silently, and was now resting his palms on the table. Smoke drifted up from his pipe and John followed it with his eyes. None spoke until long after it had dispersed at the roof of the tent.

“Separate?” 

“Preposterous!”

“What do you hope to achieve?”  
“Who do you think you are?”

The Grandmother held up a hand smiling softly. “House Breath was always a nomadic House, I suppose it is time that we return to that life. It was only a matter of time. In fact, I seem to recall  _ you,  _ Master Orage, being one of the strongest opposers to the change into this current form of administration.” A pointed look at one of those who had raised their voice, an older man with a long salt and pepper beard and slate blue robes. He sat down in a huff.

John summoned up the courage to speak. “I don’t understand, why did you need me here?”

Twenty four eyes turned to him. The leonine one grinned. “Provisions of course.” She smiled wickedly. John’s father tensed near him, shifting subtly to stand between her and John. 

“Your father has requested that we let you know as well.” Something in her voice suggested that it wasn’t much of a request, and he would be paying for it later. “He believes that you might be useful in our next objective.”

“Which is?” Inquired a gravelly voice from the crowd.

“We scatter, and hide, and hope this blows over. Since I suspect it will not, I am sending Master Egbert here to request aid from the Houses not involved so far.

“ _ What? _ ” A booming shout from John’s father. The Grandmother smirked, knowing she had won. John shrunk in his seat, wishing more than anything, at that moment to disappear.

“Of course, Mr. Egbert, we would not want either Doom or Life to discover our supposed ‘betrayal’.” She made air quotes in the space next to her. “Who better to send than a nobody, a simple paperboy, to seek aid? And we shan’t let anyone else know of this, I assume. Security, of course.” 

John’s father was fuming. He was no idiot, and knew when he had been beaten. This knowledge, however, failed to keep the strain that promised thunder and lightning out of his voice as he quietly asked to be excused from the meeting. The Grandmother responded with a wave of her hand, to which every other council member quietly filed out in response to.

John headed to his own tent, still numb with shock. He packed all of his things with robotic motions, a water skin, a sharpening stone. Little things that he hoped he would never need to use. He had never left Breath, he had thought he never would. It was a development, to be certain, but John wasn’t sure he was ready yet. His father had told him of the cutthroat realms beyond the Zephyr herding grounds, and he knew he probably wouldn’t last a second in one of them. John pushed aside the flap of the tent, running his finger along the embroidered edges as he turned to leave.

“John,”

John whipped around, searching for the familiar white fedora in the crowd. When he found it, he sprinted towards his father, feet almost never touching the ground. When he reached him, they embraced, a crushing bear hug that enveloped John in the familiar scent of flour and sugar. They stayed like this for minutes, though to John it couldn’t last long enough. When he finally pulled away, he took only three steps before his father spoke.

“John, I wish I could go with you.” His father’s voice was filled with regret.

“Why can you not?” John whispered, almost unintelligibly.

“I- John, you know I have to lead the rest of our clan, there’s no one else that knows enough about how it was before we grouped together.” He ran his hand through his carefully styled hair. “Summoner help me, I would drop everything in a heartbeat if it were just about you and I.”

“But it’s not.” John said.They both paused. “Look, I get it. You have a whole clan to lead.”

Silence again, weightier than before. John followed his father’s movements as he took off the ring that he had worn since John was no larger than the boxes  that held the canvas for the traveling tents. There was a line of pale skin around where it used to be and it felt like there was a hole where something important was missing.

“I want you to take this.” John’s father stood with his hand outstretched, a peace offering.

“You want me to- Dad no!”

“I want you to take it.”

John reached out his hand shakily and took it. It was cold to the touch, almost dark, as if it was mourning the loss of a constant companion. He looped it through a chain on his neck and turned back to his father, who was standing alone, silent, reserved.

“Dad, if this is the last time I see you,” John started.

“It won’t be.” His father’s tone was certain, optimistic, but his eyes said different.

“I love you.”

John walked towards the unknown, compass in hand. The crowd parted around him and he looked back one last time. He placed his hand on his heart and placed the other to his head, an old sign of respect. He departed, his blue hood flapping in the wind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> drAMA. Dialogue needs to be fixed up, but I made a bunch of edits today (2/20/17), so hopefully this chapter will flow better. Apologies for the brevity of the chapter, it was kind of an introduction phase and I wasn't quite sure when to cut off.
> 
> If you have any suggestions, or notice any typos, please let me know in the comments.


	2. Serpents in the Catacombs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After traveling for several days with no end in sight, John discovers a cave. What may lie beneath is a mystery, and it will take everything he has to leave in one piece.

The best way to summarize the past week, John decided, was muddy. Though he attempted to blow away the most fragrant of the material on the path, it was nearly impossible to get rid of all of it. He knew that he needed supplies, he hadn’t seen a town in days, but perhaps that was a good thing. The last town he had visited was controlled by House Life, and the glares that he got there were enough to melt iron. John had left there as quickly as he came, and only now was he regretting it. His stomach growled, murmuring in protest. He broke off half of the remaining bread, which was stale, but still delicious, the spices that made House Life so famous in the culinary world filling his mouth.

And so John trekked onwards, his boots clicking on the cobbles as he beheld the storm clouds gathering above. It didn’t take an expert to know this storm would be no small matter. The wisps of clouds had coalesced into a roiling mass that bore down on the plains with silent menace. John knew he couldn’t outrun it, who knew how much farther the nearest city was? He tore his eyes from the darkened sky and scanned the grassy fields before him. Grass, as far as the eye could see. He squinted. Vaguely, he could pick out a small grey lump in the distance, hopefully something he could brace his tent against in the wind. 

Rain began to fall, sparse droplets that quickly became a downpour. As he approached the mystery object, John realized that it was not, in fact, a rock. It was something much better. A cave! It appeared deep enough to shield from the sleet that was beating down on him as he thought and John welcomed any chance to save wear and tear on his tent.

John stepped into the cave, shaking off as much of the water as he could. He slumped to the ground, exhausted from the run. He lay down his bags and wrung out his hood, creating a puddle on the floor. His breathing slowed from frantic panting to even shudders. He relaxed into the curved wall of the cave and soon fell asleep.

When he woke up, the rain was still pounding. With no end in sight, John frowned. A true nomad at heart, he was restless to keep on moving. Who knows what was happening back in Breath. Perhaps Life had already wiped them out, maybe they were all lying on the floor dead from a particularly nasty poison? He fidgeted nervously with the ring on his finger, attempting to clamp down on the worries that were churning in his stomach. It was burnished silver, simple at a first glance, but forged with intricate patterns that swirled and danced in the light. The silver cradled a mottled blue crystal, heavier than it appeared. John squinted at it, rubbing his eyes. No, it was still there. He rubbed at the stone, trying to wipe away the gray smudge that he saw there. John shrugged internally, perhaps it had always been there? He stood up and stretched, picking up his bags which scraped against the ground. Echoes resounded down the length of the cave. He wondered how deep it stretched.

John listened to his steps, venturing deeper into the cave. While he walked, he noticed something strange. The cave glowed softly blue, never seeming to get any darker as he moved. He contemplated this as he walked, fingering the cold silver ring, skimming over the polished gem in the center. Soon, he was farther in the cave than he had ever intended to be. The entrance was barely visible from that point. He continued walking even as he squinted and twisted his neck in order to make out the point of light that hinted at the exit.

And then his foot slipped off the cliff. 

John’s heart skipped up to his throat as he struggled for air. He pressed his eyelids together, and tried to hold his glasses onto his face. The wind ripped at his face and arms, tearing at his skin and drying the water from his clothes. The wind! John scrunched his face in and concentrated. What had his dad said? Concentrate on the Breeze? He laughed internally. There was certainly enough of that around here! A whispering whistled through the air, carrying words in a language that was on the tip of his tongue. He wasn’t quite sure why he did it, but he reached his arm out, the other still pressed to his face. As he waved his arm around in a pattern that was familiar and yet not, he felt the tattoos on his wrists heat up and the chain around his neck begin to vibrate. He could feel the currents in the air, the tiny motes of dust floating through. John didn’t have much time to revel in this discovery, though, he placed both hands pointing downwards and  _ pushed _ . It was working! He was slowing down, into a glide as opposed to a freefall.

John hit the water below with a gentle splash, negating the effect of his freefall on the dampness of his clothing. Clambering out, he shook himself like a dog, every droplet sending echoes as loud as thunder down the cavernous tunnel. He took a survey of his surroundings after making a check to assure himself that he hadn’t lost anything on the way down. 

It was dark, as to be expected for underground. John wondered how far he had fallen. He listened carefully, but failed to catch even an inkling of the sound of rain that was pouring so violently above. The cave was glowing with that same subtle luminescence, though part of it was the residual glow from his tattoos. The entirety of the inside was smooth, and perfectly circular. It emanated an unnerving air, as if the entire tunnel had been misplaced. 

John began to walk down it, quickly coming to one fork, and then another. It seemed to be a maze, and a complex one at that. He took forks at random, though sometimes he would start down a tunnel and then quickly turn around, as a convenient gust of foul smelling air wafted over him. They were really convenient. His eyes were drooping whilst he made another turn. For all he knew he could be going in circles again. Another turn, just the same as-

What is that? On the floor, there was a smear of what appeared to be chocolate. John leaned closer, and recoiled in horror. It was blood, supposedly from a low blood troll. He looked forwards and beheld a trail of the faux chocolate leading down the left fork. Whomever it was had to be nearly dead by now. John began walking down the left fork, gingerly stepping over the blood at first, but then picking up the pace as he continued, pounding the smooth floor with the soles of his shoes. Down the tunnel he could hear faint moans, and a vestige of that strange language floating through the air. He skidded around a corner, and beheld a strange scene.

There were two trolls there, the faint blue light of the tunnels staining their skin a pale flint. One, his hair dyed red at the tips and styled into three neat peaks, appeared to be yelling at the other, who lay prone on the ground. The one on the ground was whimpering, shrinking away from the other who held a large blunt lance. John wondered why the troll didn’t get up and fight, when he saw his legs. They were bent at unnatural angles, ochre blood seeping through his heavy charcoal pants.

“You know, doll, I don’t like to do this, but you took my chance away man, and I gotta make sure it doesn’t happen again. You understand, right?” John took a cautious step back. An echo resounded through the hall, causing the dyed hair troll to start.

“Hey! What the hell you doin here?” The troll with dyed hair had turned to the corner that John had just retreated behind, brandishing his lance, which glistened with dark moisture, towards him. “Show yourself.”

The other troll moaned again, and made a feeble attempt to crawl away, the yellow part of one of his gigantic horns scraping against the dirt. The troll standing up flickered his attention back to the bleeding, and hit him once more, over the head. He crumpled, unconscious. 

“I said  _ show yourself!” _

John stepped slowly out from the corner, hands up.

“That’s more like it.” The dyed hair troll motioned with his lance. When that failed to result in a reaction he sighed and rolled his eyes.

“Your weapons, princess. That knife in your sleeve, and that bag. Kick them here.”

John removed his knife, feeling a chill where the strap had been. He took off his remaining bag, still soaked with water and kicked them both over to the troll.

“Is your friend ok?” John asked, fully knowing the answer.

“He will be, with time. He’ll be regretting it now though, last time he’ll try to get in between me an’ my  _ destiny. _ ” The troll’s face now had a dreamy, far off look. “The Summoner is my destiny, always and forever…” He trailed off, then shook his head, throwing off the dreamy look and giving John a lopsided grin.

“Name’s Rufioh doll, and the poor schmuck in the dirt?” Rufioh kicked the unconscious troll. “That’s Tavros, my personal assistant.”

John was quiet. He wasn’t quite sure what to do, but he knew he had to help him. “Why did you hurt him?” He winced. Great start, ask him about why he beat up someone. Why don’t you just punch yourself while you’re at it? John berated himself silently.

“Didn’t ya hear me the first time? My destiny!” Rufioh took a deep breath, reveling in it. “I am the heir to the Summoner, following in his footsteps means I must wake the Denizens and bring them to the surface. The whole world will hear their beautiful tongue and be enlightened! I wil be the greatest troll anyone has ever known! It is fate, is it not?”

His eyes had taken on a crazed gleam, not unlike a religious fanatic. John took a step back.

“The hell do you think you’re going shitstick? I’m not about to let you take any of the glory for this  _ momentous  _ discovery.” Rufioh took a menacing step forward, then another. 

John knew he could have run, and probably outpaced the insane troll, especially because he was no longer burdened by his pack, but he couldn’t just leave that broken troll there. He would surely die and John was pretty sure that Rufioh hadn’t spent any time on medical training in his past years.

As these thoughts were racing through his head, Rufioh had gotten even closer, almost within striking range with his lance. All at once, he lunged.

John reached out his hand instinctively, though he knew it was stupid. There was no way his hand could repel four feet of solid wood and iron. He braced for the hit, waiting one breath, then two. Nothing came. After his fifth exhale, he opened his eyes, hesitant. There was Rufioh, still angry, nearly frothing at the mouth, but not advancing. There appeared to be a dome of solid wind surrounding him, he couldn’t be touched within. Rufioh snapped his canines at John and prodded with the dripping lance, but was unable to approach. 

John advanced a step. The shield followed in suit. Rufioh continued banging on the dome, now scratching at it with a frenzy nearly as potent as that of a rabid beast. John took a deep breath, and blew it out quickly, feeling the Breeze fill his lungs rushing out as quickly as it came. A huge gust of biting wind flew forth, completely ignoring the shield and crashing into Rufioh. He slammed into the other side of the cavern with a small puff as the air was knocked out of his lungs. He crumpled to the ground, silent. The wind swirled, rearing for another attack, this time, aimed at who it believed was Rufioh’s accomplice. John hurriedly waved his hand to dismiss it. John slung his bag over his shoulder and strapped the knife back to his arm, leaving his solid wind dome up, in case Rufioh’s unconsciousness was a bluff.

John dropped the shield, and ran over to Tavros, his knees nearly buckling as he felt the weight of the magic he had done press down on him. Still, he made it to him, and surveyed the extent of his injuries. There were lacerations all along his back and stomach, it was a miracle that nothing vital had been hit. One particularly deep cut fell horizontally across his spine. It appeared to have severed the nerves there, if any of the injuries to his legs had happened after this, he wouldn’t have felt it anyways. He took a roll of gauze out of his backpack, and bound the lacerations as best he could. It would have to do for now. John tried to pick him up, and succeeded. He was surprisingly light, built like a bird, light, fast, and no more than a hundred pounds. John suspected that malnourishment had something to do with the weigh. He looked over at Rufioh, who appeared to be well fed, as evidenced by the powerful muscles and full frame

John looked back at him as he started down the tunnel, and bit his lip. He knew that it wasn’t right to leave someone all alone in the tunnels, especially someone that was unconscious, but with what he had done to Tavros? He wasn’t sure he could stomach another second with the beast.

And so he started down the tunnel that the two trolls had arrived from. After about a half an hour, his arms began to ache, though he pressed on. Another hour passed. Sleep seemed a distant dream though John had just slept less than three hours ago. A noise behind one of the corners ahead. John lifted his head but did nothing. He was just… too… tired… 

A troll rounded the bend. He caught sight of John and Tavros, and rushed over to them.

“Where’s Rufioh?” The troll’s voice was extremely quiet, with a slight huff to it. “Did he send you? What happened to him?”

John opened his mouth to speak, but the troll held up his hand. “Is that his assistant? Did he send you to me for mending? He was always so considerate he must have. Here, follow me.” The troll galloped towards a wall, and stepped through. Too tired to question anything anymore, John followed without complaint, and found himself in a workshop.

There were tools and scraps of metal all over the place. There were a few projects of half finished circuit boards and gas lit lights, but nothing completed. The crest of House Void hung above two work desks, one fastidiously clean, and the other covered with broken gears and wires. Two beds lined the back wall, and John stumbled to one, laying down Tavros, still bleeding slightly. 

“I can heal him for now, please take this time to rest.” The troll gestured to the other bed, labeled in fancy script above the headboard as ‘Horuss’s bed.’ From the size, John guessed that it belonged to the kind troll that had saved them. John lay down and quickly fell into a deep slumber.

When he awoke, John saw Tavros sitting up in bed. He was staring at John, his bronze eyes scanning him with a careful precision. The tattoos on his head were more visible now, and someone had propped his back up with extra pillows and… was that a robot head?

They made eye contact, and Tavros looked away quickly.

“W..who,” he made a stuttering start, his voice high and shaky. “Who are you?”

John opened his mouth to respond, but was interrupted by Horuss swishing through the 

curtained door, soup in hand. He moved Tavros’s legs to the side, and began to spoon the broth to him, barely taking notice of John. John tried to take a closer look at Tavros’s legs, which had been set in huge splints. Somehow, John found it difficult to focus on them, it was as if a cloud of darkness had descended on them. Every time John moved his eyes to them, they slid away, and he found himself looking at the bedpost next to them. 

“How strange.” John murmured to himself.

Horuss looked up, only now seeming to notice John’s presence. John quickly stood up, brushing down the covers of the bed under Horuss’s goggled glare. “What’s strange?”

“N-nothing,” John stammered, sounding more like Tavros than he ever had in his life. The voice crack didn’t help either. His eyes flickered to the shadows and then back to Horuss.

“Ah, that.” Horuss sat down on the bed John was just occupying, thrusting the bowl of broth into Tavros’s shaky hands. “See, that’s a certain ability of House Void. I could get into the spatial mechanics of it, but suffice to say I ‘hid’ your friend’s injuries from the natural course of things.”

“Friend? Sir, we just met last morning, I’m not quite sure that qualifies as-”

“Unfortunately it’s only a temporary fix. He will be able to walk, until the effect fades. I suggest you head to House Space, there’s rumors of a clan of Rainbow Drinkers that might be able to help more permanently.”

“House Space? That has to be half a world away! The effect can’t possibly last that long!” John was not looking forward to carrying the troll, no matter how light, hundreds of miles to some insane House.

“For lack of a better option, I have decided to allow you to use my Benders. Each is keyed to just outside of each Houses’ main cities. Just my luck that I had just finished repairing this one. They tend to break after a single use, but for Rufioh’s assistant? I’m sure he would understand.” Horuss had risen, and was rifling through the mess on his desk for the item. He held it up triumphantly and headed back to John.

“How sure are you that these work?” John took the Bender in his hand. It was a cold ring with a spirograph design inlaid inside. It seemed to suck the light out of the air. Holding it felt wrong.

“There is a slight chance that I might not have programmed it properly, and you ending up inside a wall, but that’s a minor detail in the face of such an exciting advance! Now, both of you touch it, and I’ll activate it.” He seemed almost giddy with excitement, John doubted one of these had ever been used before. 

He looked over at Tavros, whose face was set in determination. John held the ring out to him, and they hooked their pointers over the ends. “Ready then.”

“Three…” Tavros looked nervous now, he was almost about to pull away from the Bender.

“Two…” John grabbed his arm, holding tight. This might be his only chance.

“One…” They made eye contact, and Tavros loosened under his gaze. He placed his hand back on the ring, which was beginning to pulse.

“Zero.” A flash of green, and a vestige of clouds, and they were gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I get to finally start something with words other than 'John'  
> Ah yes the Nitrams. Backstory/Exposition train ahead, probably. Perhaps we will finally get into the thick of things, I sure as hell am ready to get neck deep into weird plot shit.
> 
> EDIT: Changed a few minor things to help the chapter flow better. Added more detail on the ring John has on him, which may become important later on.


	3. Moonlight and Bloodletting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tavros and John arrive in Space and seek out the Maryams in hopes of a permanent solution.

Tavros and John were falling. The realm that they were in was thunderous, green and white lightning sparking all around. They were petrified, gripping so hard to the Bender that their knuckles turned white, the blood pounding through their ears. There wasn't much the could do, neither wanted to find out what would happen if they let go, so they gripped tightly to each other, calm spots in the violent storm of the unknown.

The air around them stilled, though the lightning sparked and roiled still. Abruptly, with one last flash of light, all was silent. Soon, the air began to be filled with the sounds of the physical world, but John had no time to appreciate their return, as he fell to the ground. Vaguely, he heard the wavering pitch of Tavros’s voice, and the scrape of gravel on his bare skin. John turned towards where he thought Tavros was, and smiled blearily, squinting to try to make out any semblance of his face. He was tired. A little rest wouldn’t hurt, after all, he was safe wasn’t he? John flopped in Tavros’s paltry grip and fell unconscious.

“J oo h nn? J o hhn arree you okay?”  A hand gradually came into focus above him, waving back and forth. John moved to sit up, but a searing pain caused him to flop back down, knocking his head on a hard surface behind him and sending reverberations through his skull.

He felt cool metal on his lips and a hand tilting his head back. Water poured into his throat, cool and slightly sweet. John sputtered, then drank thirstily. Slowly, the fog began to clear from his head, but unfortunately not from his vision.

“My glasses. Where are my glasses?” he croaked, barely audible above the clamor in the area.

Tavros’s clammy hand teased his open and placed the cool metal frames in his.

“Thanks.” He placed his glasses on his face, squinting as the world came into sharp focus. He winced at the brightness.

They appeared to be in a marketplace of sorts. Colors and bright lights filled the air, as well as the intoxicating smell of baking bread and pastries. John took a deep breath and sighed, hoisting himself up against the wall behind him. He got onto his knees, bracing against the cold granite behind him as he continued rising. On shaky legs he took a step forward, nearly collapsing into Tavros.

“I’m ok… I’m ok,” he said standing straight and brushing off his hood. He took another look around. “Are we sure this is House Space?”

“As sure as a bird on the wind, Rufioh and I had come here several times throughout our travels. Crazy place, huh?” Tavros looked out onto the marketplace, easily picking out old memories from the crowd.

“I don’t know, I always expected something more… utilitarian. This is the place where they make firearms?”

“Not the entire city is set for weaponsmithing. This is one of the many market squares in the area, in fact, if I’m right, we’re right near where we need to be.”

“And where might that be?” John quirked an eyebrow, curious. He didn’t recall Horuss telling them anything about where they needed to go.

Tavros crossed his arms. “Why the home of Clan Maryam, of course.” When this elicted no response from John, Tavros waved his arms in the air, gesturing furiously. “The former ruling family of Space? Deposed by a Split cherubim and her heir? This ringing any bells?”

“Obviously not.” John said dryly. “Where might we find this Clan Maryam.” The word felt foreign on his tongue, and he rolled it around for a few seconds before letting it go.

“They are not for us to find, of course.” Tavros looked out at the carnival again, smirking and showing his razor teeth. It was then, in shy Tavros of all people, that John caught the fierce savagery of all of the troll’s history. “They must find us.”

Tavros turned his grin to John. There was such lightness in his eyes, such joy, that John didn’t hesitate for a second when he pulled John into the swirling fair.

It was sensory overload. The crowd throbbed and pulsed along with the noise coming out from it. Stalls lined the sides of the forum, merchants hawking everything from candles to a guide into meta mythology. Bright swaths of cloth featured prominently among the stalls, as well as several counters filled with firearms of all sorts. John guess they lived up to their motto, ab panno usque telum, from cloth to guns, or as it was commonly translated, from peace to war.

Tavros pulled him along throughout the forum, seemingly caught completely in the fair. John, however, caught sight of his eyes, which were scanning the crowd carefully, darting from face to face, searching. Finally, they seemed to rest on one specific troll, and Tavros picked up the pace, nearly running through the crowd. He dodged nimbly in between patrons, ducking and jumping neatly to avoid smashing into people. He was as flighty as a cool breeze in hell, John thought as he struggled to keep up. He was not so lucky, and ran into several people, which delayed him with his apologies and the patron’s indignation. Tavros and the troll he was pursuing darted down an alley, and John followed nimbly, no longer hindered by the navigation of the enormous crowd.

They pounded down the maze of alleys, taking countless lefts and rights. The fall at their entrance to Space was beginning to catch up with John, there was a spike that seemed to drive into his head a little more with each step. Just when he thought his knees were going to give out for, he lost count, about the fifth time that day, Tavros stopped in front of him.

They were in front of the least remarkable door in the whole city. It was narrow, barely wide enough for them to fit through face first, though the troll they had pursued seemed to slip by easily. Tavros grinned at him, panting only slightly, the obscuring mist curling around his calves. He turned to the door, and rapped sharply. A slot that was previously hidden by the grain of the wood opened at their eye level. Jade green eyes ringed by a strangely yellow sclera peered out at them.

“Speak And I Shall Answer.” Each word was careful, punctuated.

“The words of mine shall not be repeated.” John didn’t know why he said it. The words seemed to spill forth, completely without his consent. “Thou shalt swear upon this oath so help you be.”

Tavros looked at John, impressed. The eyes gave them one last look and narrowed in approval. As the slot closed, a clicking was audible from the inside. The door swung open.

Before them stood a troll, but one completely different than all the others John had seen before. He realized of course, that he hadn’t really been exposed to many trolls, most in Breath had continued herding nomadically while the rest converged, but he knew something was off. She was tall, taller than John, lean and stood with feral grace. Her hair was styled up in two points on the sides of her head and she wore a dark gown speckled with stars. The troll extended her hand, which John noticed, emitted a faint glow.

“A Pleasure. I Am Lady Kanaya Maryam.” John reached out his hand and shook hers, feeling the quiet strength of her grip. “And You Are?”

“I am John Egbert of House Breath.” John motioned to Tavros, who seemed entirely out of his element and had hidden behind him.

“T-tavros Nitram M’lady,” he said, emerging only enough to shake her hand. John squinted at him. He had seemed so confident out in the streets, he wondered what had merited such a huge difference.

“Please. Do Come In.” The troll motioned with her hand, causing light to flicker along the immediate interior.

The two travelers stepped inside.

Inside was nothing they had ever seen before. The walls were draped with ornate fabrics and embroidery needles. Beds lined the hall, many with trolls lying in them. A sickeningly sweet smell emanated from them, a dizziness was felt whenever anyone got close. They were mostly trolls, though a few human visitors lay prone on the beds. Kanaya led Tavros and John through the hall, deftly dodging trays and other trolls. They eventually came upon another door, a large and beautifully detailed structure made of oak wood and gilded.

Kanaya rapped on the door. “Dolorosa. There Are Visitors.”

The door swung open silently. Bookshelves. Everywhere. There was a huge banner along the back wall, prominently displaying the crest of Space and a motto, Maryamae Victores. A desk was set up in the middle of the room, and another troll stood next to it, hand resting gently on the table. They stepped over the threshold, Kanaya close behind. Kanaya closed the door behind them, and stood near it, an air of warning daring anyone to cross her. John didn’t miss the flash of a curved knife beneath her swirling garments.

The troll in front of them greeted them coldly, and they introduced themselves. She asked what brought them here, and John responded with a gesture to Tavros’s legs, which still had Horuss’s mist curling around them, though they were fainter than a shadow on the wall. The elder troll nodded to another figure that was leaning against the wall, her impressive horns dipping with the motion. The figure spun on their heel and exited through a tunnel behind one of the bookshelves.

“Please follow Kanaya. I must attend to my duties. The troll sat down in her chair and bowed her head, dismissing them.

Kanaya opened the door for them and they stepped back out. “Who was that?” John thought aloud.

“You Have Had The Great Honor Of Meeting The Leader Of The Maryam Clan. You Are Lucky To Have Merited Her Notice. You Will Address Her As The Dolorosa.” Not a question. A command.

Kanaya led them to a separate room where a third troll with the same glowing skin and jade eyes stood. She was tapping a syringe with her long fingernails, and frowning through her golden piercings. Her skin was wreathed in swirls and lines, reminiscent of galaxies. She seemed completely absorbed in her work.

“Porrim.” The other troll looked up, eyes flickering in between Kanaya and the two visitors.

“Is this them?” The other troll moved towards them, pushing Kanaya out of the way. Kanaya gave her a look, drawing her lips back to hiss at her, but Porrim put her finger to her lips. “A fine job on the mist, I assume an engineer did this?” She was prodding the mist now. It recoiled like a feral beast, almost snapping at her fingers when they got close.

“We cannot heal this, but we can certainly make the mist close to permanent.” Porrim stroked her long fingers along the row of metal tools at her disposal. “Warp Shift in double dose, of course, and that should fix it right up.”

In a movement too fast for John to catch, Porrim seized Tavros and slammed him on the gurney. Kanaya watched with bored disinterest, though when John started to move towards them she twirled her knife in her hand. A warning. John stepped back, nervous for his friend who was still struggling against Porrim’s immovable strength. She held him down with one hand and took hold of a syringe, which held a swirling mixture of all colors and shades. Tavros caught sight of the huge needle and began fighting even more, now tearing at Porrim with his hands. She deftly found a vein and depressed the plunger. Tavros’s struggling weakened until his blows were merely taps on Porrim’s shoulder. He fell limp on the gurney, head lolling to the side.

Porrim brushed herself off, handing the empty syringe to Kanaya, who wrinkled her nose and held it as far away from her as possible.

“That should be enough for now.” Behind her, the mist around Tavros’s legs seemed to settle, pooling and hardening in protection.

“Th-thank you.” John cleared his throat at his own voice crack. “How long w-will he be out?”

“Six hours, if my math is correct.” She stood in front of him. “Now. About your payment.” Her eyes flickered to his arm, and the veins beneath. John’s hand flew to the spot and she tilted her head at him.

“We require blood.”

“B-” John swallowed heavily. “Blood?”

“Yes. Usually we accept human or troll blood, but for you… Warp Shift doesn’t come cheap these days. I’m thinking something a little…” Her fingernails were on his wrist. “More…” Her lips near his ear. “Rare.” John shivered.

She withdrew, chuckling under her breath. “Cherub blood. Lime. of the Split cherub Calliope. Reinstate us to the throne and consider your debt paid.”

“W-what? You want me to kill the Muse of House Space?” John was shaking violently. He was panicking, the walls were closing in on him oh god ohgodohgodohgod. Then, pain, a starburst of white across his vision. Porrim had slapped him, he tasted his own blood, salty on his tongue. John raised his hand to his face and felt three deep scratches. He looked up at Porrim and flinched as he saw her licking his cherry red blood off her fingernails, which now looked more like claws than anything else.

“It’s your choice of course.” Porrim’s voice held more menace now. “Refuse and we kill your friend as well as you. I’m sure we can find another way to kill that wretched usurper, and when we do… House Space will declare war on House Breath.”

John was still shaking, but he had slowed, instead feeling a complete numbness spread across his body. He stood straight and, trembling, took the knife offered by Porrim.

“Good boy. Run along now, and do not fail. Chocolate and oranges are on the menu.” Porrim made a dismissive wave with her hand, smirking. She knew she had won and was relishing it.

Kanaya led him out. He walked stiffly behind her, barely paying notice to the various scenes of drama that were happening all around him. She took his hand, slipping a swath of cloth into his hand.  

“It’s For The Best,” she said, standing in the narrow doorway. The door closed, and John was alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shitty ass chapter for the win!  
> Sorry for not updating for the past three weeks, I need to get my ass in gear.
> 
> I think there's a pattern emerging of me making the dancestors the bad guys.


	4. Divide the Stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John contemplates a grisly task given to him by the Maryams

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Longer ish chapter  
> I'm not promising anyone makes it out alive.

His name was John Egbert and he was about to become a murderer. An assassin. A killer. He was unforgivable, the guilt inescapable. John Egbert knew he was going to die and he was going to do it anyway. He was going to do it because he had to. He was going to do it for Tavros, a troll he barely knew. He was going to do it for his father. He was going to do it for his House. He was horrible and he was selfish and he was going to do it.

Tears were streaming down his face of their own accord. He gripped the handle of the knife as hard as he could, hoping deep inside to break it, to shatter the foul weapon, and with it the deed that must be done. Alas, the knife remained. John relaxed his grip, and stood up slowly. 

It was dark by now, and above shone the stars, blindingly bright. Eyes, witnesses. They saw all, and forgave none. John stepped into the shadows near him, hiding from their everlasting glare. He hunched over, as if it would disguise his identity and made his silent way towards the palace. 

John passed several marketplaces and forums along the way. All were in a state of celebration, joyous, happy. It was a shame to ruin it all. John ran to the palace gates in a blur, his feet flying across the cobbles. Barely anyone noticed him, and those that did merely saw the flash of a blue hood, and a slight breeze as he passed. 

When he reached the palace gate, he debated just turning himself in. He could save himself, he could save Tavros too. Maybe Calliope would listen? Maybe he wouldn't have to… have to…

It was useless, he knew. Why would the leader of such a prestigious House pay any mind to a single traveler, pushed around by all he knew? He snorted. The stars were more likely to crash into the earth. 

John reached the wall surrounding the palace. It was forty feet of impenetrable stone reinforced by iron, and was at least four feet thick. John examined the section immediately in front of him as he hurtled towards it. Just as he was about to hit it, he leaped. Ten feet, not quite enough. He grimaced, scraping his palms as he scrambled for a steady handhold. After finding it, he braced to jump again.

A shout. Must be one of the guards. John had no time, he took another leap. Only five feet this time, not nearly enough to clear the daunting structure. He leapt again, and again. The shouts grew closer, and he could hear the clanging of armor plates and the subtle whisper of swords unsheathing. Just when the guards had reached the area, he cleared it. All they saw was a scrap of fabric that fluttered from one of the spikes near the top.

John landed with a puff of dust, his heart pounding on his ribs so hard he was sure the whole world could hear it. He darted across the castle yard, faster than he had ever run before. None of the guards were at the door. John guessed they had been pulled out to the outside of the wall when they heard him scaling it. He gave a silent prayer to the Summoner and all the Saints as he sped through the gate into his assured demise.

A wave of deja vu hit him along with the rich smell of cinnamon as he passed into the main hallway. It looked so much like the Maryam’s home he had to force himself to breathe to avoid another panic attack, which he knew would only result in his capture. There were the same fabrics on the walls, the same decorations carved into the same ornate benches and chairs. He was drowning in the smells of baking and machinery. 

John’s steps faltered and then slowed. The extreme use of magic had drained him, he couldn't keep it up for much longer. Pretty soon, he was running at a nearly normal pace. The guards would take notice of him if he continued, a clear foreigner running through the halls with an anxious expression on his face. John was as good as dead if they caught him.

John flitted behind an elaborate tapestry. He stuck to the shadows as he continued, somehow unable to keep his pace below a gallop. Perhaps it was remnants of magic? John rubbed his cooling tattoos. No, more likely just nerves. He swerved around a corner, just managing to leap behind a column before the guard came around. The cold stone dug into his back as he sucked his breath in, hoping his hood wouldn't give him away.

As he approached the throne room, every step sending echoes through his bones, the guards became more densely packed. Each was stone faced, dressed in light armor and brightly colored capes. John shuddered as one of them swept their cold eyes over where he hid.

He reached the doors to the throne room. It seemed impossible, but they were even larger, and more elaborate than the ones he had seen at the Maryams. John stood and gaped at it, the wood carved with two gigantic intertwining snakes. Their eyes, inlaid with red and green jewels respectively, seemed to grip his eyeballs, holding them in place. That is, until the clang of a guard’s metal boots resounded through the hall behind him.

John tugged on the doors frantically, finding them just as heavy as they appeared. He put his whole weight on them, pushing harder, harder…. THERE! The doors swung open smoothly, the hinges silent as the room beyond. 

It was lavish, just as the rest of the palace, all red and green and gold in fine silks and velvets. What stood out most to John, though, was the single figure standing near a gigantic window, their shadow casting long across the room. The figure turned to meet him.

On their head, they wore a golden circlet, and a sweeping gown in black and red on their body. They took a step towards John, revealing feet that were clawed and long, and smiled a toothy grin with the skull that was their face.

“Hello John!” She, for John could tell that was who she was, said, “I was wondering when you might arrive! Took you far too long to get past the guards, really, I was expecting more from such a professional assassin as you.” She wiggled her nonexistent eyebrows at him.

“I am Calliope, the leader of House Space as of a few years ago. I assume you are here in the name of the Maryams?” She barely gave him time to take breath before continuing. “Of course you are, you must be. None could possibly have been given such a knife- may I?” 

Calliope extended her hand, beckoning. John placed the silver blade in her hand, stepping back quickly in case of an imminent stab wound. She laughed, a beautiful sparkling thing, effortless and bubbly as a spring breeze. John hated himself even more now.

“Ah yes,” she marveled, holding the foul instrument up into the light. “The very same knife stolen from the vaults. Dolorosa always had a flair for the dramatic.” John understood. To kill Calliope with the knife that had been stolen from under her very skull so easily, it would be the final shame, the perfect finale to such a marvelous plot. This would be remembered for eternity. 

“I suppose you ought to kill me now.” Calliope scratched the top of her skull with one claw. “It was inevitable anyway.” Calliope shrugged, blasè on the subject of her demise. She padded gracefully off to the side, retrieving a waterproof bag.

“Make a slit, along here.” She gestured to a specific spot along the side of her neck. “Collect my blood in this bag. After I have died, break my ribs and cut my heart out. That should give the Maryams something to smile about, clever bastards.”

“Wh-what?” John stuttered. “Y-you’re taking this? You’re going to  _ let  _ the Maryams just… take everything, everything you’ve worked for, everything you’ve built? Isn’t it worth fighting for?Surely there's another way!”

“Now, lets think this through. Say you do not kill me. The Maryams will send another assassin after me, and probably you as well. House Breath would gain another enemy and your friend would die alone.”

“How do you know all this?”

“John, I have eyes everywhere. Nowhere is private in this House. This brings me to my next point. Say you squirrel me out of the palace and attempt to escape. All those eyes would be turned towards us, and we would not make it past the first borough. Again, only death remains afterwards.

“The third and most favorable option is that you kill me and power transfers peacefully to the Maryams. You get your friend back and are free to go. Perhaps Breath gains another ally? However, before you take my heart, I would like to ask of you one thing.”

“Anything.” John meant it. Whatever she needed, he would do, if only to help ease his own heart.

“Listen carefully. I require you to go to Bequerel workshops and find my protege, by the name of Jade Harley. I have named her my heir, and thus the Maryams will be after her head next. Please take her out of the city, this is of the utmost importance.” Calliope gripped his shoulder. Her green eyes bored into him, and John found himself unable to look away. “She is the only hope for Space, John, you have to, because-because.” She was shaking now, her claws cutting holes in his shirt and drawing blood. 

Calliope took a breath. “I can’t really make you do it. I can only ask.” She leaned down to be at eye level with him. “Please.”

John nodded, slowly. It was the least he could do. It broke his heart that a life so vibrant and pure would be stripped away from this world. He took the knife from Calliope, who had bowed her head to present the spot he knew would drain her life. He raised the blade.

It was quick, the knife was well sharpened, cutting through skin and muscle like butter. John’s hand did not shake. Years of doing the same with the local herds of Lusii Naturae had ensured him an efficient bleeding. Calliope sighed, slumping to the side. John didn’t want to, but he watched the light go out of her eyes. He froze it into his memory. Never would he forget. Never would he let the horrible thing that the Maryams had forced him to do go. He would be back. The bright green blood poured into the waterproof bag he had laid out earlier. Calliope was dead.

John cut into her chest, making only a few small slits, and pulled out a recently stilled heart, stained green as the rest of her organs. John tried to do the least damage to her, he would not relish this grisly task. The world was blurry around him, John swiped at his face, coming away with four perfect tears suspended on his wrist. Calliope deserved a proper burial, even though that was more than she would probably receive from the Maryams. John lay her arms across her chest, covering the wounds he had made. She looked peaceful, happy even. 

John rose from where he was crouching, staring at his bloodstained hands. He made a salute to Calliope, and turned away, the body cooling as he walked towards the door.

No one tried to stop him. All of the guards now wore black feathers in their hats, the maids, in their hair. A few gave him frightened glances, a few looked as if they wanted to throttle him then and there. John wouldn’t have minded it, but none had the will to disobey what appeared to be their former leader’s final order. John reached the outer wall again, this time not needing the elaborate theatrics to make his way through. Outside the wall was silent, all the festivities seemed to have ceased.  _ As they should _ , thought John. Who could be joyful when such a terrible thing has happened? It was if a shadow had been cast across the entirety of the city. Even the stars looked dimmer from the streets. 

John hurried back to the Maryam’s hoping he had remembered which alley it was. All of a sudden, a figure in a green lined gown pulled him off into a sidestreet. John felt the cold edge of a blade on his neck, and froze.

“The blood.” Vowels rolled around softly in the shadow of the assailant's cowl. John reached backwards, feeling for the bag. The knife pressed deeper into his throat, drawing bright beads of red blood. “No funny business.”

He retrieved the bag and placed it, still warm, into the hand of his attacker. She threw back her hood, smiling a fanged smile at him.

“Little boy blue…” She swirled around him, stalking, prepared to pounce. “I had my doubts, about you, yess. Your loyalty was to be expected though. Who would dare defy such a noble clan. You’ve protected yourself, and your pitiful little House. I suppose congratulations are in order?”

Porrim clapped sarcastically, methodical as always. Her tattoos flashed dark in the dimmed starlight. “However,” she held up a finger. “Your friend seems to have, shall we say, a bit of a problem.”

“What sort of problem.” There was ice in John’s veins now. He could feel it, sharp shards pushing against the walls of each artery and capillary. He was deadly quiet, and Porrim shifted slightly, uncomfortable, though the arrogant smile hadn’t left her face.

“Why his slight… shall we say… dependance on Warp Shift. It was almost too easy, what have you been raising the poor troll on? He was so willing, so  _ eager _ . I think he believed you had abandoned him?” Porrim slammed her hand against the wall, bringing her face to him. “And didn’t you?”

“Dependance.” Porrim was surprised at the lack of reaction from John. Usually, humans were so emotional, so mortal. Even trolls on the culling block did not show this level of apathy. 

“Addiction. What an ugly affair. Warp Shift is such a terribly wonderful substance. I suppose it’s too late now, one would have to obtain a vast amount of Warp Shift to be able to wean him off? And that, dearest, is extremely  _ expensive _ .”

John suspected what kind of payment she would want. He knew well and good, but he was not prepared to pay it. Not prepared to end another life. But for Tavros? John wasn’t sure why he felt this way about him, they had only just met, but somehow, he felt the urge to protect him. 

“Expensive.” He would not back down. “I think you’ll find the death of the Maryam’s heiress to be a risk you’d have to take in this transaction.” 

Porrim stopped moving. Her tattooed hand went to her own throat, recoiling. In the process, she removed the blade from John’s own neck. He took that opportunity to reverse the situation, pulling her close into a hold that he knew worked on even the strongest bulls. A silver knife, still dripping with lime blood, pricked the hollow of Porrim’s neck.

It was a long shot, but he had to try. “I wonder, if it might be possible to, shall we say, reconsider the price of this substance?” John copied Porrim’s speaking patterns. He hoped she wouldn’t call his bluff. Porrim gulped, drawing a trickle of jade that mingled with the brighter green. When she hesitated, John twisted it in his hand, prompting a little more that trickled down the middle of the knife. John tried not to retch when it touched his hand, thick and uncomfortably warm.

“You wouldn’t dare.” Porrim was trembling, trying to counter bluff in hopes of escape. 

“Try me.” said John. He winced internally. How much more cliche could you get? “See how darling Kanaya does in such a powerful position. I’ll give her…  four weeks before she’s assassinated.” 

Porrim was shaking with rage now, an accompaniment to her fear. John hoped he hadn’t pushed her too far. He wasn’t sure he could fend her off if she decided to try and kill him for real. She relented, slumping against him as if all the air had gone out of her. He dropped her against the wall. It was over.

When John reached the Maryams’, the door swung open at once to meet him. Porrim had apparently taken a shortcut and had already reached the place with Calliope’s heart in hand. John had only to flash his bloodstained knife to gain access. He met with the Dolorosa, again in her massive oak study.

“John Egbert. Porrim tells me you’ve had quite a night.” John did not respond. “She has also told me that you are to be given the requisite amount of Warp Shift for your friend. On this I must congratulate you. My heiress is not easily intimidated.” Again no response. The Dolorosa sent him out of her office, with instructions to another jade blood to take him to Tavros.

John entered the room where they were keeping his friend. He was lying, prone, on a steel gurney, seemingly relaxed. He slurred his words saying that everything was ok to John, or more precisely, 

“Everything is motherfucking a ok brother.” His voice seemed to waver, taking a lower pitch than usual.

“Tavros we’re leaving.” John insisted. He took Tavros’s arm and began to march out of the den, ignoring Tavros’s dazed struggling, as well as the heat that rushed to his cheeks when all the patrons began to laugh at him. The cold air hit both of them like a balm, blowing sweet and cool against their sweaty skin. They were free, for now, but one thing lay unfinished

His name was John Egbert and he had a mission.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I should elaborate on a few things, don't worry, if you don't read these it's fine, they will hopefully never come up in the actual story. Let's call it... random trivia.
> 
> Aspect Tattoos are called tattoos for convenience, they're actually birthmarks. John's are on his wrists and hands, Tavros has them on his temples. They tend to be passed down genetically. Conducting magic through them gives them, as well as a troll's horns, a glow corresponding to their House. 
> 
> Porrim was a body modification artist before Space was taken over by Calliope. She used to not really care what happened to the house, despite being the Maryam's heiress. All of her tattoos light up when she is conducting magic.


	5. Ready Set Slow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tavros and John seek out the Heiress to House Space

When John and Tavros left House Space, only one of them had near full function of their nervous systems. One had just committed a terrible act, the other had been lying close to death at the whims of a ravenous Clan. The very same Clan, John reminded himself, that he had helped retake the throne. Needless to say, it had not been a good night.

They stumbled through the streets, John half carrying, half dragging Tavros. All of the doors were closed now, windows shuttered and candles snuffed out. Such a different city than when they had arrived, cold as the cobbles it was built on. The ragged travelers wandered, not exactly sure where they were going. Perhaps it didn’t particularly matter. After a long and fruitless night, John was just about ready to collapse. They ventured down the last street in the borough.

One shop was open. It was built of the same gray stone as the rest of the city, but warm yellow light poured from the open windows. Inside, the two travelers could hear the clang of metal and the hiss of flames. A sign hung above the closed wooden door, reading in simple but efficient script;

“Becquerel Workshops,” John breathed. “Thank Summoner.”

They opened the door to the workshop to the quiet ting of a bell hung above. An older man looked up, wood shavings sprinkling in his gray mustache like snow. He tipped his hat to the two and went back to his work. The desk in front was empty, though the chair was spinning slowly, suggesting a recent occupant. A rush of cold air, and a girl burst through the back of the workshop, hands overflowing with scrap metal and trinkets of all sorts.

John didn’t know what he was expecting the Heiress to the throne of House Space to look like, but it certainly wasn’t this. She was tall and gangly, dressed in a baggy jacket and workman’s pants, which were neatly tucked into her tall boots. Her tangled black hair was tied back in a messy ponytail, strands falling into her face whenever she moved. Her eyes were House Space green, lighter than the Maryams but darker than Calliope’s and rimmed with long thick eyelashes. Round frames were perched on her nose. She smiled, buckteeth white and straight, at the two travelers and stuck out her hand.

“Hey!” She frowned for a moment when John didn't take her hand, and then laughed. She took off her work gloves and tried again. This time, John took it, warm and calloused from metalwork. “I'm Jade Harley!”

The old man huffed a quiet laugh in the background and Jade stuck her tongue out at him. “Don't mind him, he's just grumpy I outdid him last week in Weaponsmith Guild headquarters. Isn't that right gramps?” The old man waved his wrench in the air menacingly, though there was a twinkle in his otherwise stern face that suggested humor.

“Yes, Jade. We’re here because Calliope sent us to-” Tavros cut him off by somehow wriggling out of his grip onto the cold floor of the shop.

Jade scowled, crossing her arms “Well you can tell her that I'm not coming back. She can groom and primp me for the throne in six inch stiletto heels but it'll never work out and she knows it. Tell her to find another heiress.”

“You see that's just the thing Calliope-”

Jade went on to tell them just where Calliope could stick her fancy shoes. Her grandfather gave another small noise, this time of laughter.

“Jade!” John had had it. As much as he loved how happy Jade seemed, she was in great danger. “Calliope is dead!”

Jade took a step back, the smile shattering, bits and pieces dropping away as she processed the statement. “Dead? She can’t be! The s-security in Fortress Relativity was top notch, I-I designed it myself!”

“She is!” John ran his fingers through his hair, ignoring how it caked multicolored blood. He wished now that he had taken something off of her corpse to give to Jade, if only to give her proof. “I don’t know how to explain this to you but-”

Jade shrieked, staring openmouthed at his hands and hair. John winced, only now remembering the color of the blood that covered them. Jade pointed a shaking finger at him. “You- you killed her?” Jade’s grandfather had gotten up from his metalwork. He was huge, broad shouldered and muscular despite his age. He looked murderous.

“No! I mean yes. Maybe?” John scrambled. The old man approached, and Jade drew a rifle from the holster strapped across her back. She held it with such ease that John knew she could probably hit a fly a mile away without even looking. His head was a much closer target however, and John liked it where it was.

“She-she asked me to kill her! I mean- That is to say- I didn’t want to!” Another step back, though it wouldn’t help him if she shot. The rifle was mounted on her shoulder now, the barrel between his eyes, tapping the top of his glasses. He froze.

“You killed Calliope.” This time not a question. The members of House Space had a habit of doing that, John noticed.

“I- I killed Calliope.” John was close to tears. The weight of the act hit him all at once. Every emotion, every piece of guilt he would forever feel smashed into him like a thousand waves. Everything he had done, all the terrible things that had happened, would all be for naught. His father, his House, would be slaughtered, and nothing would remain. He could see the blood on the fields in his mind’s eye, so bright, so terrible. John’s muscles, so tense before, relaxed, sending him to his knees.

He pressed his head to the barrel which had moved downwards along with his sudden motion. “I killed her.” John wasn’t going to do anything to avoid it. He deserved this. Not even Tavros would help him now, so intoxicated by Warp Shift that John doubted he even knew he was in danger. John was truly, truly alone.

The rifle shook in Jade’s hands. She didn’t know why, this was the man who had killed Calliope. Killed the chance that Space had for a bright future. Killed any hope that might be left for the House’s salvation. This man, this man deserved to die. Jade’s thoughts whirled, the choice should have been easy. She looked into his eyes, blue as the sky. There was something there that spoke of a tormented soul and the acceptance of eternal cold. They welcomed oblivion with open arms. It was heartbreaking, and unmaking all at once.

Jade lowered the gun. John gave a small sigh, closing his eyes in relief. He rose and reached out his hand to Jade, still trembling slightly. She was tentative, spotting the lime residue under his nails, but took it in her own, completely covering it in her large rough palm. After a few seconds, both withdrew, stepping to a comfortable distance for conversation.

“Why did she send you here?” Jade’s voice was still cold, reserved. She could practically taste the frost as each word left her lips.

The look on the young man’s face was the polar opposite of what had been before she had taken the gun from his head, all storm and shadow and the refusal to disappear. “To save you.”

The intruder went on to explain what he had been experienced thus far, from his first entrance to Space to his arrival at Becquerel Workshop. He told her she had been named the Heiress to Space in Calliope’s final will and testament and how she had to leave. He told her that she had to leave. To leave.

Leave. What a simple word. The swoop of the vowels gave no indication of abandonment. The consonants, nary a mention of loneliness, of memories lost and broken. The phonemes did not show the connotations of guilt and the reality of the outside world.

“Jade? Jade.” The young man was waiting, holding out an elbow. If she took that arm, trusting a complete stranger, her life in Space was over. If she did not, she would surely die, that is, if he was telling the truth. It wasn’t much of a choice. Jade stepped back.

“Jade, please. Please!” John was begging her now, almost stumbling over himself to try and get her to come with him. “You don’t understand they’ll be here any minute now!” Yet she still retreated, Space’s chances fading with every step.

A banging at the door. John yelped, and, faster than Jade could follow, he grabbed her, as well as Tavros’s limp form, and pulled her behind the giant desk, holding her in place.

“Fucko take your hands off me this instant! You monster!” Jade yelled, snarling through her bared teeth. John hissed a short breath in panic and clapped a hand over her mouth, still covered in disgusting evidence. Jade could taste it, smeared on her lips and nose.

“Listen to me right now or you may not live to see the sunrise.” John whispered, as Jade’s grandfather went to get the door. “Shut. Up.”

Just as Jade’s grandfather was reaching for the door handle, it burst open. Three armed guards swept in, capes flapping in the rush of cold air that followed. Each wore a black feather of mourning, and dark circles under their eyes that suggested sleep deprivation. John barely dared to breathe, spotting the Maryam’s insignia on each of their breastplates, blazing green upon the stark grey metal.

Jade seemed to shrink in fear, clutching to John as the guards came into view. They were trapped. Nowhere to hide, no one that could possibly help them now. John’s eyes flicked around searching desperately for any possible escape route. There!

John thanked every single Saint he could think of. How would Jade have gotten in in the first place?  
He tapped Jade on the shoulder and pointed towards the door. She made eye contact and nodded slightly to John. At least he hoped it was a nod. It could have been a nervous twitch, but at the moment John would take what he could get.

They began to creep towards the exit, John’s light feet and Jade’s knowledge of the workshop’s layout making their exit as silent as possible, although Tavros had to be carried. Every time a stray limb hit anything John was sure his teeth grinding could be heard from a mile away. They could hear the guards trying to get Jade’s grandfather to talk, the whisper of leather scabbards against metal and lowered voices. They were almost there, having passed the final table. They were so close, John could almost taste the fresh air, the freedom!

A crack! Sparks billowed from one of the forges. The guards turned quickly towards the sound, spotting both Jade and John.

“There they are!” One shouted,

“Get them! The Maryams want that one alive.” The captain shouted to his men, waving them forth with a stiff arm gesture.

John cursed under his breath. So much for stealth. John took in a deep breath, and blew, causing everyone’s ears to pop. The guards were thrown back into one of the shelves of firearms, sending it crashing down upon them. John didn’t stay long enough to see this however, he had already blown the door down and was dragging Jade out into the streets. It wouldn’t be long until they were followed. John’s mind raced furiously, eliminating and creating plans as quickly as he moved his legs. Nothing seemed an option, so John did what he did best. He ran.

Jade followed in step, slinging Tavros over her shoulder as easily as if he were a bag of scrap. They bolted through the streets, never pausing to take even the slightest of breaks. Their lungs were burning as they pressed on, their legs leaden. The guards behind them began to gain, just as the outer wall of the citadel became visible above the skyline.

“Damn it!” Jade wheezed. John wasn’t quite sure where she found the energy to curse but appreciated the effort. The gate came into view above them, huge and iron and open. John picked up the pace, Jade following in step. They crested the last hill, feet skipping on thin air.

An ambush. Of all the rotten luck. A platoon of guards stood in front of them, pikes braced to impale them if they continued. The escapees wheeled around, attempting to backtrack, only to be met with another group. Metal glinted in the morning light as they skidded to a stop. John slowly raised his blood crusted hands in the air.

“You are under arrest on the charges of treason against the House, conspiracy and regicide. How do you plead?”

John didn’t have enough energy to continue. He had failed. It was over. He barely noticed the guards approaching, not to mention Jade, so strong, so raw, standing defiant beside him. She had an idea, though he wouldn't have known it.

Jade pursed her lips and gave a sharp whistle, praying for it to work. The ground shook intermittently, then a pound pound pounding came roaring through the streets. All of the soldiers looked to the source of the sound, bracing for another foe to round the corner. The sound became louder, shaking the ground even harder.

It was a dog. A large dog, that was to be sure, but a dog, its paws huge and fluffy. Jade was smiling with maniacal glee next to him, her teeth glinting in the morning light. The guards relaxed and returned back to corralling the three escapees. They began to walk towards the palace, but found themselves in the same place they were seconds before. The dog was lying in front of them now, white belly to the sky. The guards grunted and tried again. This time, a slight zap was audible and a metallic tang coated John’s tongue. They were closer to the gate, slightly. Jade pumped her fist in the air and started whispering to the beast

“Cmon Bec, who's a good boy good dog best friend closer to the gate now please irradiated steak for you you good dog good boy.”

The dog perked up its head at the mention of irradiated steak and yapped, revealing a mouth lined in green. The guards continued to approach the dog, not noticing how John and Jade were getting ready to bolt.

John sucked in a huge breath and sneezed, sending him and Jade catapulting through the air. The guards lined up,drawing pistols from their belt aiming them efficiently. Bec stood up, growling at Jade’s whistle and loud whoop,  
“Now Bec!”

The guns fired, but whizzed through empty air. The travelers had disappeared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good dog  
> Best friend
> 
> Not super happy with this chapter


	6. Blind in the Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and the rest of the travelers arrive in Light and seek another mysterious wanderer.

Jade, Tavros and John popped into existence a mile from the outer wall of Space, twenty feet in the air. They hovered in the air for a moment, and then free fell, landing in a heap in the hay. John sneezed again, sending bits and pieces floating all around the three escapees like snow. 

Jade pumped her fist in the air and pulled out the greenest steak John had ever seen. It was glowing with a light that suggested something almost…. atomic. Huh. He guessed that Jade wasn’t kidding when she said she had irradiated steak just for her freak of a dog. 

She turned to him and smiled, a huge grin with all the joy in the world. John saw a bit of Calliope in that grin, in the spark in her eyes, and the tilt of her head. He couldn’t help smiling too, though the movement felt alien to his face. Jade giggled at his weak smile, which only made him grin wider, a feedback loop of shared joy.   
They had made it. John sprawled onto the grass, the verdant shards tickling his nostrils. Jade fell down next to him, both relishing the fresh air and sunlight that peeked over the horizon.   
“Oh thank the Saints, we actually made it,” Jade whispered, forgetting, just for a moment, what the cost of escape had been.   
They lay in the sun for awhile, feeling the warmth move from one side of their face to another. John couldn’t believe it had only been two, maybe three days since he had left Breath. It seemed as if he had been away for years. As the sun approached its highest point the three rose, feeling more rested than they had the previous hours. Jade still held Tavros, who was just now coming out of the effects of his previous Warp Shift dosage. He would be experiencing withdrawal before long, and the spatial warping ability of the drug was nothing to be trifled with.   
He had the Warp Shift with him, he had to. John rummaged through both of their bags, searching and searching for the bag of the substance, but found nothing.   
“No no nononononono,” John scrambled, he couldn’t have- they wouldn’t- yes they would. Just like the Maryams to pull such a shady trick. As he was frantically tearing through the bags, a small cloth falls out. A pause, and it’s hitting against his ankle, heavier than he remembers.  
He opens the package, blinking at its contents. It’s a bag of Warp Shift, concentrated into liquid form. Jade whistles at the sight of it, commenting on the potency. It’s enough. It’s enough. Alongside the bag of the drug is a letter, bound in red ribbon and sealed with the Maryam’s crest. A note lies beside it, in the fanciest handwriting he had ever seen.

Dear John,  
I hope this note finds you having made the decision that you know you needed to make. I must be brief, as Dolorosa is soon approaching. Please take this letter to a correspondent in Light. She will hopefully find you, as she has a funny way of doing so. Be forewarned that the Maryams will not honor their promise to stand with Breath in the coming war. I advise you to run. Run as fast as you can, and gain as many friends as you can. Good luck, traveler  
-Kanaya

John looked to Jade, hope and sorrow appearing in equal measures in his eyes. “I know where we’re headed next.”  
They set out for Light while the sun was still high in the sky. It was a blisteringly hot day, the sun beating down on their backs. John led them, barely able to look back at Jade, who made it very clear that she did not wish to speak to him ever again, if she could avoid it.  
A day passed, then another. The trail led on, changing from dust and mud to worn cobble, and then pristine stone. Around them stood larger and larger buildings. And then they saw it.  
The wall to Light came into view, huge and imposing, glittering a brilliant white in the sunlight. John picked up the pace, days of travel and stress falling away as he beheld the white citadel.   
“John watch out!”   
Papers went flying. A short professor, dressed in a white lab coat fell to the ground with an audible crack. John’s glasses were knocked straight off his face.  
“Oh Saints I’m so sorry!” Jade apologized for him, helping the skinny professor from the ground. They waved her off, collecting the papers as fast as they could.  
John fumbled around for his glasses, as his father always said, he was as blind as a mother grub without them. Jade, gingerly, picks them up from their dangerously close to being stepped on condition on the ground and hands them to John, ignoring his hurried mumbling of gratitude.   
John squinted through the dirty frames of his glasses, trying to make out the professor’s face. They looked familiar, almost like-  
“My apologies, dear travelers! I am Viceroy Bubbles von Salamancer, personal assistant to Miss Savant Grimdark. The pleasure is mine.” Even as they said this, they looked down at the ruined manuscripts, some of which had fallen in the mud.  
“I’m Jade Harley, from House Space, and this is John and Tavros. Both Breath.” Jade gestured to them each by name, without looking at them.   
“Oh! Breath!” The doctor fidgeted with their hands, making little motions in the air. “I’ve always wanted to go there! What is it like?”  
“But you’ve been there Case-”  
“It always was such a mysterious House. More mysterious than, I daresay, Void!” The doctor chuckled.  
John, unable to get a word in through the doctor’s wall of words fumed, glaring at the doctor. Jade stepped in, hurriedly responding,  
“I’m sure they would be glad to do so! Right John?” Jade elbowed him in the ribs.   
“Y-yeah sure.” John rubbed his side, annoyed.   
“Wonderful! I have so many questions. Why don’t we start simp-” An orb of light flashed above the professor’s head. He waved it away, looking dejected. “That would be Lady Grimdark. I have to go, but you’ll find me when you have free time yes?”  
The travelers simply watched as the skinny professor hurried his way back to the shining citadel, stray papers floating off every once in awhile. One landed near them, and John picked it up, drying it with a quick breath.  
“Huh. Would you look at that.” John smiled. Radiance really was the lucky city. “I think we’ve found ourself Horuss’s long lost brother.”  
John tilted the map towards Jade, who, unable to contain her curiosity, took a peek over his shoulder. “Zahak Mechanics. Worth a shot.”  
They reached the outer wall, surprised to find it completely unguarded. They passed through the wall, and heard the slight buzz of magic being released. John reached for his knife, entertaining a hunch, and found it to be intangible. No surprise there. They headed through the streets, barely pausing to admire the marble balustrades and libraries that covered the pristine city. When they had reached the location that was indicated on the map, there stood in front of them  
“Nothing.” Jade groaned. “Another wild honkbeast chase.”  
“Not so fast.” John put his hand up towards the empty lot. “This guy’s from House Void, remember?” He felt pretty good about this one, his hunches had been right so far after all. Yet again, he was correct. John’s hand made contact with a door, and the travelers were sucked in.  
The workshop was dark, reminiscent of Horuss’s. Clearly a relation, there was a picture of Horuss, someone of the same height, and another troll who had his hand on the two younger trolls’ shoulders. Muffled clanging could be heard from the room next door, and occasionally sparks would illuminate the silhouette of the figure that was working.   
“Hello!” Jade called into the darkness. Echoes. The sound of hammering stopped. Heavy footsteps, and huffing breaths approached.  
“Who are you.” The troll that stood in front of you was… large to say the least. He was drenched in sweat, muscles rippling and face set in a scowl that revealed several missing teeth. His horns ended in two arrows, which glinted in the cold blue firelight.   
“I’m- I’m John Egbert and thi-this is Tavros Nitram and Jade Harley.” Tavros lifted a weak hand from his position on Jade’s back, which John took as a good sign that he was recovering. Jade was scowling to match the strange troll’s, but it wasn’t directed at either the troll or John, a welcome change.  
Rather it was directed at the machinery that was huffing and puffing in the back. “You. Have something to say, little girl?” The troll huffed.  
“Actually, yes I do.” Jade looked smug, looking completely unafraid at the menacing posture of the troll. “You used the wrong size bolts for this, the material isn’t enchanted the correct way, the runes are placed sloppily on every single object and your cleaning habits are atrocious.” The troll was stunned. Jade smirked, crossing her arms. “I could go on, but you certainly wouldn’t want to hear me dismantle your entire business.”  
“You. Work in roboti% as well.” A strange accent, probably caused by the missing teeth. “How. Intriguing.”   
“You bet your best wrenches I do.” Jade smiled wide, showing her buck teeth in all their glory. “Now. How about this. You help us, and I help you.”  
“I am t00 superior to you, I will do the ordering.”  
“Yeah yeah tough guy, here’s the deal. Our friend needs help with his leg situation. Can you make robotic ones?”  
The troll sniffed, insulted. “Of course.”  
“Good. Do so, and I will help you with whatever you need mechanically for as long as they takes to make.”  
“No.”  
“Yes.” Jade looked around, “Or,” and she smiled again. “How much do you think the leader of Light would pay to know that someone from Void is hiding and running an illegal shop in her Capital? Enough to pay for robotic legs, obviously. But I’d like to keep this business hush hush.”  
John blinked at Jade. He guessed that was why Calliope had picked her as her heiress. Politically powerful, and quick witted. Nice.  
The troll was sweating more profusely now. “Deal.” He extended a hand. “G00d doing business with you, Miss, Harley was it.”  
They left towards the bench, chatting eagerly about the terms and the blueprints for a project like legs. John sat and waited. After about twenty minutes they came back, Jade, scowling as soon as she caught sight of him. The troll snorted, much like one of those equine lusii John used to love.   
The troll’s muscles rippled in the dark light, and John got up in a hurry. “I’ll- I’ll just go… explore the city! Yes! That’s what I’ll d-do.” He absconded in a hurry, squinting at the bright light as he exited.  
He wandered the streets, alone again. The markets and streets bustled with people giving seminars or poetry readings. Hands in his pockets, he let himself just wander, trusting his feet. When he opened his eyes from his wanderings, he was in a part of the city that looked very different from what he had seen thus far.   
The buildings were faded, no longer glowing, and in various states of disrepair. It was different, John had to admit. A nice change, quiet. Soon, he came upon a group of trolls, who seemed to be in some sort of fight.  
“This is Arachnid Territory you better get your asses out of here before we blow them to high heaven!”  
“Yeah? Here’s what I think about your little spider wannabe group.” The speaker flipped the others the bird.   
Growls ripped through the crowd, though no one moved from their stances. Then, someone let out a punch, which cracked across the upstart’s jaw. After that it was all fists and feet, horns and claws in a huge pile. John recoiled when a light spray of green blood hit his face from the brawl. Saints son, he couldn't take any more fighting!   
“Stop!” He yelled, but his words were drowned out by the crowd “For Saints sake STOP!”   
A blast of cold air blasted through the streets, forcing the two groups apart. Most kept their feet, a few were knocked to the ground. The gangs looked to him, orange scleras glowing in the fading light.   
“Stay out of this ki-”  
“HE KILLED HIM!” A younger troll cut off the other, rushing to the front. She glared at John, blue stained irises blistering with anger. She was standing above one of the trolls who had fallen. Blood stained his head, John guessed he had hit his head on the uneven stone.   
The crowd paused for a second, absorbing this information. Then, as it had turned against itself all at once, it surged forward with one goal, his demise.   
John ran. As he continued at his blistering pace a few stragglers began to peel off from the herd, exhausted. The chase lasted forever and John could feel himself tiring. Still, two trolls pursued him. One was the one that screamed, the other a burly male.   
The girl hissed at the other troll.”This one’s mine.” And so the other troll ceased chasing him and it was just them.   
It was a sort of dance, every time John made a feint or darted down another alley, the troll followed. John was already exhausted, but he kept going. His life depended on it and John found that that was the best stimulant. He couldn't go forever. The troll began to gain ground, hissing and panting.   
All of a sudden, she slowed down. John sped up, thinking that this could be his chance, looking over his shoulder to make sure she was indeed slowing her pursuit. Satisfied, he looked ahead once again.   
A wall. John scanned it quickly, eyes darting over it. Perhaps he could vault up it like he did in Space? It was a desperate gamble, he knew, his reaches of magic were far depleted. The wall was marble, crumbled and…. there.  
John crossed his fingers that it was plugged in and sprinted. The troll behind him increased their pace, tasting victory in the air.   
Five meters. Three. One.   
John hit the fenestrated wall, and fell through blackness, the only sound the pained shriek of a troll. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kind of a boring chapter, but this gives me the chance to introduce you to my now co author, RapJazSka! 
> 
> He'll probably introduce himself himself later, but for now, suffice to say that we're planning a lot of fun plot shit mwahahahahahaha. 
> 
> As well, thanks to everyone who left kudos and comments, or even just decided to stay and read this little pet project of mine, well now ours. 
> 
> Thanks for reading so far, looking forward to more death and sorrow in chapters to come. 
> 
> Take a moment to try and guess who the two unnamed trolls are


	7. Darkness in Relief

As John fell through the darkness he had enough time to think exactly how many times that he had been in this situation in the past few days. More times than he would like to admit. For some reason, perhaps stress perhaps homesickness, he found this absurdly hilarious, and snorted just as a window beneath him came into view. John landed in a heap, his elbows cracking painfully against the dirty marble floor. He groaned.

“John?” A familiar voice. John raised his head off the cold floor, adjusting glasses with a hand that smarted from impact. 

“Case-mmph!” A hand went over his mouth and the professor leaned down to his ear.

“I’m sorry sir but there’s been a misunderstanding, my name is Viceroy von Salamancer. Haven’t we met before, on the road?”

John looked up at the professor. No, that was certainly Casey, the spunky, smart assistant from his father’s roaming group. Glasses were perched on their nose and an uncharacteristically nervous smile twitched at the corners of their mouth. 

“Now I’m going to let my hand go, promise me you’ll call me by my name yes?” When he made little reaction, the professor fidgeted with his glasses. “Good. I knew I could count on you.”

The professor offered their hand. John took it, floating up from the floor as if suspended by strings. They scurried away, little clouds of dust floating up from where their lab coat buffeted the ground. John followed them, staring in wonder at the dark lab spread before him.

The marble floors were dark and covered with dust, unsteady floating lights fading into darkness near the edges to give the illusion of endlessness. Various beakers and other stereotypical lab equipment was mixed in with other more magical devices. They looked to be alone, and John wondered exactly who Cas-Viceroy, he corrected himself, was afraid would hear, or for that matter, why.

He didn’t have to wonder for long. Before five minutes had passed, a short figure, appeared from an unseen door off to the side. She tilted her head at John, a practiced smirk accompanying a look of carefully concealed surprise on her icy features. She wore gloves, a white lab coat, and shoes that made a ticking noise as she approached. The figure appeared to be human, lacking horns or yellow scleras. However, much to John’s confusion, her skin was stained a dark grey and her eyes and hair were leached of color. John blinked. It must be a trick of the light.

She stopped in front of John and offered her gloved hand. “Doctor Rosalyn Lalonde. The pleasure is mine.”

Without thinking, John extended his to meet her. Several awkward shakes later, you realize you haven’t said a word. “Egbert! Egbert. That’s my name. John Egbert. Yes.”

“A smooth one, I see.” Lalonde directs this at Casey, who nods vigorously.

“Indeed my lady, indeed!” Casey is gearing up to go on, fidgeting excitedly with his hands. However, Doctor Lalonde sighs at his first remark, pulling her hand away with a graceful flourish and finishes scratching a note on a clipboard that John was certain wasn’t there before. 

“Oh Viceroy I thought I told you not to call me that. My aristocratic days are over I’m afraid.” Her gloved hands went absentmindedly to a silver chain around her neck. She remained so for a short moment, then shook her head as if to clear a fog. “But our guest certainly doesn’t need us to bore him with all that now does he?” John just stared. What a character this Rosalyn Lalonde was. “I’m being terribly rude. John, Egbert did you say? Ah yes. I’m afraid I must ask what brings you to my laboratory. We don’t get visitors too often.” Casey nods along with that and adjusts their thick glasses.

“Oh! I uh. Kind of ran through a window. Ended up here.”

Her eyes glittered, flashing an unnatural white before fading back to a bleached lavender. “A window you say? How intriguing.”

“Oh mister John, please go on!” Viceroy was so excited. Why so for such a strange question?

“I mean. I think it was a window. It was this glass looking thing leaned up against a glassblowing stall in some alley near ish the east gate.” He scratched his head “I think.”  
Lalonde scratched a few more notes onto her clipboard, directing the pen with a tendril of grey and purple energy. Strangely, John noticed, her ‘tattoos’, rather than glowing the House’s color, burned dark through her white lab coat. Lalonde noticed his interest and fixed him with a smile that dared him to ask, one that was more like an taxidermist examining a recently deceased carcass than anything else. A chill ripped down his spine. By Saints did he not want to end up on the wrong side of that kind of magic.

“Very interesting, John. And how did you come across this… window, did you say?”

“Well, uh.” 

“Speak up!” Lalonde snapped. She took a deep breath. “I apologize. It was not my intention to speak to you so sharply. Please. Go on.” Even her hand wave to ask him to continue was strained. John got the feeling that she was using an extreme force of will, and didn’t particularly wish to see what would happen if that willpower broke. John spoke faster.

“Um, actually, funny story there haha.” John gulped. “I was wandering an alley. Came across a brawl, some... gang? or something against another group of trolls.” He spread his hands. “I don’t know what came over me, I just kind of. Blew the two groups away from each other. One cracked their head on the cobbles.” John wrung his hands. “I killed him. I didn’t mean to but I kille-”

“Get on with the story Egbert.”

John shook his head as his breathing quickened, biting his lip. He drew blood and winced. “He died. And I guess one of his friends took issue with that. Cue a chase. I wasn’t really looking where I was going and…” He finally took a deep breath, trying to ignore the walls seeming to close ever inwards. “Here I am.”  
“You’re kidding.” Rose said, incredulous. 

“I’m sorry?” John shrunk back.

“None of my dozens of followers, searching for months upon months with nary sleep, food, or water found it. But some kid, some traveler, from  _ Breath _ of all places managed to find it within a day of arrival!” She threw up her hands and yelled into the darkness above. “I’m sure you think this is funny now don’t you! Funny! Haha you really got me there Mindfang, you old spidershit!” The darkness made no reply

Rose composed herself, taking a few shuddering breaths and putting her hands into her pockets. “John. Did either of the two groups of trolls mention any names. Allegiances.”  
“Um…” John racked his brain. “Oh. Scorpion, Spider… something like that.”

“Arachnid.”

“That’s the one.”  
“Figures. Of course it’s in the Spider Mother’s territory.” Rose let out an insane giggle “Wonder how old fang breath managed to make a deal with her.” She lunged forward, and gripped his hand. “Thank you. Thank you so much John Egbert.”  
John pulled his hand away as fast as he could. “You still haven’t explained what’s going on.”

“Yes yes.” She scuttled around, collecting vials and beakers. Rose fumbled excitedly through her key ring before unlocking a glass case that held two white thorn like things. Viceroy stayed close by her side, darting in and out of cabinets. “Now you see John. I was a… rather high ranking aristocrat in Prism Palace several years? Months. Days ago. Time is weird here.”  
“You’re not making any sense.”

“Matters of magic rarely do. Are you planning on any other idiotic remarks or shall I continue?” John nodded. “After several years the Marquise became… disappointed in my lack of ambition. She had adopted two younger proteges at the time, ones who took much more after her cutthroat nature. I had sensed that they were working against me to undermine my position, as I was, by virtue of blood, the heiress of the whole of House Light. I was not willing to cede my position to them, you see. This created quite a stir.” Rose waved her hand, skipping forward a few months in her story.

“And then they ‘discovered’ my research. They were well aware of it up to that point, but lacked the firepower to really discredit me. I… had an accident with a foolhardy experiment.”

John opened his mouth but was cut off as Rose continued to talk. Wisps of black energy poured off of her, increasing in tempo and number as she got more excited. “In the end I was banished down here, to a place between seconds, with only one way out.

“The trick was one simple condition. None of my acolytes, or anyone who had even met me in the past could tell, write, or communicate the way out to me in any way, or the place would disappear permanently, with all of its contents. That means me. Only an outsider could save me. So for this I must thank you John Egbert.”

The tentacles of darkness crept ever closer to John. He took a frightened step back. The darkness followed. “Oh!” Rose stroked one as she straightened up, everything shoved precariously into a large briefcase. “There’s one last thing.” 

“Oh miss Rose, there’s no need to do th-” Viceroy was cut off by Rose holding up a hand and taking a menacing step forward. The silenced professor winced and stepped back, looking on from the edge of the laboratory.

“And wh- what is that?” John attempted to sound casual, taking another nervous step backwards.

Rose flashed John a childish grin, teeth and throat glowing an unnatural white. “Why John! You’re taking my place.”

And then the tentacles lunged. John’s heart stopped as he sprinted away. Rose’s laughter mingled with that of a thousand voices. The air in front of him grew heavy, syrupy, making it more and more difficult to move forward. He grit his teeth and pushed forward, though the tentacles nearly had him.

For a second he thought he had escaped. But then the tentacles enfolded him and he was gone. Their inky folds were cold to the touch, wrapping around him in a cloud of darkness. Bewildering. Alone. And still he struggled, screamed into the silence when They tried to worm in, take over his thoughts, drape them in a curtain of the void. This close. This close to giving in, if it only meant the end. End of the icy cold, the chilling voices, the pain and the tearing at his brain. It was nothing. Nada. Zip. Zilch. 

Absolute Zero.

Then, a break in the chill. A shape, gloved in dark blue. John squinted. A hand, yes a hand. The mass of Zero pulled at his arm as he struggled to reach towards the hand, trying to force him down while redoubling its efforts to destroy everything that was John. He focused everything that was still him onto his hand, or where he thought his hand was, and pushed. Up. One inch. Two inches. The absolute Zero hissed louder, increasing pressure and making him wince in pain

And yet onwards he still pushed. He would not stay here. He refused. He refused with every single fiber of his being. Every fiber of his John-ness pushed towards this hand. And he was winning. Another inch. The hand in front of him, his singular goal, reached out as well, closing the distance between the two until it was less than an inch. 

John gasped as the Zero plunged deeper in his mind as he grabbed onto the hand. And all of a sudden he was no longer there.

He gasped once, twice. Before he fell to the ground, out cold, he caught the glimpse of blue fire, and strange pink eyes.

When he awoke, somewhat slowly, the room was empty. A cup of steaming tea lay neatly on the bedside table along with several books on programming. And yet the room was empty save for the bed, and the tea.. 

John stumbled to his feet, shivering as a chill wracked through his body. He croaked a greeting after sipping a bit of tea which somehow had no flavor and every flavor. No response. Took a step forward towards the walls, reaching out to touch one. They shimmered like water in a pond, rippling out from where he had made contact. He staggered around the perimeter to examine every corner of this strange room. In one corner of the room, instead of the wall simply shimmering, it curved away and inwards, forming a narrow corridor. John muttered to himself, weighing his options.

Deep breath. It was a leap of faith, but then again? What other options did he have. He pushed forward. The corridor quickly widened into an antechamber with a single blue flamed torch. On the opposite wall stood an elaborate silver frame inlaid with obsidian and a dark blue gem. John rubbed his pendant, which had begun to lift up of its own accord.

There was magic in the room, in the air. Anyone with any sense could smell it. John paced the perimeter, paced the inside of the silver frame. 

Sometime during this perusal of the room he began to giggle. It was so much like those little Escape games that were always set up at Breath reunions- Hurricanes, he corrected himself. They would set up tents in a line and furnish it all with locks and puzzles and mysterious costumed individuals. He remembered the magic of his first visit, and his first day creating rather than partaking in the magic. 

Now that he thought about it, there was one just like this strange empty chamber in the most recent one. They had actually gotten the idea from a hooded traveler with a mask across their eyes from ‘just beyond the hills’. They had given them the resources, including a metal frame just like this one, if a little worn, and departed. How did the solution go for that one?

John grabbed the torch and swung it across the room. The tunnel closed behind him as the torch light moved away from it, sealing off as if it had never existed. He brought the blue flame closer to the silver, wholly focused on it. Nothing. He frowned. John supposed it was a long shot, and chastised himself for thinking the solution to this lay in children’s games. He began to withdraw the torch.

It was as if the air was coated with lighter fluid. The blue flames raced along the rim of silver, burning yellow at the point the two ends met, and exploded into a bright white light. John blinked spots out of his eyes and laughed. 

Before him spread view from the entrance to Light, the very same one he had entered just that morning, though it seemed like such a long time ago. It was early afternoon, and the marketplace was in full swing.

So much light outside. By the Saints it felt like forever since he had touched the sun. He stepped through and burst into a joyful sprint down the alleyways, happy for life, grateful for the opportunity of another day.

And the shadows collected on the walls.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yoooooooo guess who's back and knows a little more about writing now.  
> I know it's been about half a year since I last updated OSAS, and this chapter is a bit underwhelming but I hope you guys enjoy it!


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